


Hiraeth

by samsbucky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bittersweet Ending, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Captain America Sam Wilson, F/M, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Old Steve Rogers, One-Sided Relationship, Steve Chooses Peggy, Time Travel, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 15:36:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19015816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samsbucky/pseuds/samsbucky
Summary: Hireath/ˈhɪrai̯θ/Noun | WelshA homesickness for a home you cannot return to, a home that maybe never was, a nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.Pronunciation | ‘hEr-rIth’ (HEER-eyeth, with a fast heer and soft th)





	Hiraeth

There he was. There he was, perched upon an oak bench that was carved with the most delicate caution, somewhat hunched over like a withered rose; a life had already been fulfilled. First, all Bucky felt was a sense of incredulity; his desperate eyes hunted the drooping form for the man he once knew – the man whose heart was far too vast for his body, not vice versa. He pleaded mutely for the figure to turn his weary head; he ached to gaze into those big, hypnotising, treasurable blue eyes; he longed to ogle at those plush candy pink lips, often found split open with blood trickling down his pastel chin; he yearned to thread his slender fingers through the silky, blonde hair that dusted his forehead without a touch of gel. God, Bucky hungered to catch just a _glimpse_ of the man whose bones arrogantly jutted out against his body, who had gashes that dripped thick red rubies from sticking up for the underdog. Even the Adonis with stripes and a shield strapped to his bulging arm – someone Bucky thought he could not detest more because, Goddammit, he would have to _share_ him now – that would be enough for Bucky. The truth was, that very individual whose soul streamed out as sunlight from his every pore, was lost now. The man on the bench was unrecognisable.

“Go on,” He was uncertain how the bile that scalded his throat did not hurl itself from his lips as he spoke. Bucky blinked slowly, observing as another figure joined the stranger on the bench. Was it not peculiar how Bucky felt as if he knew the beauty with the endearing gap between his teeth more than the wizened face he had known his whole life? Bucky focused his gaze upon Sam, finding his uplifting presence a source of comfort to his wrecked spirit (though he would never vocalise this to him). It was easier this way, avoiding the reality of the sunken cheekbones and thinning wisps of hair the other man had. The other man who had left Bucky. Left Sam. Left them all.

Clasping the polished, gleaming circle of vibranium, Bucky felt privileged that Sam glanced back at him, searching for acceptance in his eyes, willing for his new comrade to appreciate the gift he had received. Bucky found an irrepressible pride surge throughout him, nodding with certainty, storing the image of Sam holding a shield that was meant for him away in his mind. Bucky continued to watch him, shining with joy whilst flaunting his new prize, until he approached him.

“You can go speak to him, y’know; he’s ready for you,” At this, Bucky met Sam’s understanding eyes, detecting a hint of pity in them.

“I know,” Bucky spoke softly, a ghost of a smile on his face. His hesitance was evident, and Sam placed a warm hand on Bucky’s shoulder before stating:

“He’ll understand if you don’t,”

“I know,” Bucky repeated, shoulders slumping as he exhaled heavily once Sam removed his hand again.

“I’m gonna go shut this thing down with Banner; I’ll wait for you,”

“You don’t have to; I can do this alone,” Bucky was struck with a memory of that kid from Brooklyn he adored: _I can get by on my own._ The muscle in his jaw twitched at the recollection his own response formed; it was almost laughable to him now.

“Nah. No can do, Barnes. I’m waiting for you; this…” He motioned to the bench. “It’s gonna be hard on us all, of course. But you? You’ve known him your whole life. I know that. So, I’ll wait for you,” He did not give Bucky time to protest before he was beside Banner. Bucky vigilantly made his way towards the man on the bench.

“Bucky,” The deep voice, smooth like melted chocolate, was unmistakably Steve’s. Bucky noticed a touch of relief in his tone. He could feel those baby blue eyes on him, yet he could only focus on the scenery ahead; he could not bring himself to meet the gaze of a man he had once deemed his Eros. “How have you been?” Bucky was close to completely dismissing this question, to leaving them in tense silence; however, he decided against it.

“As good as I can be,”

“This is the happiest I’ve been, Buck,” _I never asked, Steve._

“That’s great,” The words had plastered to the roof of his mouth; he had forced them out. Bucky shifted his gaze somewhat and caught the twinkle of a gilded band around Steve’s finger.

He should have known, he told himself, he should have known that all pleasant things came to an end. Steve was like a spell, a wish, that had toppled from Bucky’s plump lips like syrup. Bucky yearned to eat him back up again, never allowing others to see the golden Steve had inside. But she did. And he was enamoured by her. So besotted by her that he chose to leave everyone he had for her.

Bucky had cleaned his body out for a man who did not want it, willing to hand over his heart and slip it past Steve’s ribcage, like a letter that detailed how Steve was the reason for the laughter lines beside Bucky’s eyes, the optimism that burrowed inside Bucky’s chest. But Steve did not want it; Steve did not need it. Or him, for that matter. Bucky had followed him to the edges of the world, followed him into a bitter conflict where the scent of corpses tortured Bucky for years on end, followed him when he was just a shell of a man – an asset, followed him until he faded to ash.

Bucky never sought to fight; it was Steve that had dived headfirst, willing, grasping for a halo that everyone else would see above his head. And Bucky, intoxicated on the boundless love he had, followed Steve. Perhaps Steve sensed Bucky’s idolatry, Bucky’s admiration, Bucky’s adoration – was it always too heavy in the air? Because this time, Steve had left and made sure Bucky did not follow.

“Why?” The single question slid easily out of Bucky’s mouth this time, even if it was barely audible. Bucky now regarded Steve, staring into his mesmerising eyes, willing for an answer as he felt pearl-shaped tears meet his dark eyelashes as he blinked. They did not fall down his pale cheeks; Bucky had learned not to weep.

“Why?” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t understand what you’re asking,” Bucky fought the urge to immediately burst into fits of ire; he was joyful for Steve. He truly was. He had always desired for Steve to be content. However, he didn’t realise it would be this difficult to accept that Steve did not paint Bucky into his perfect picture of happiness.

“Why did you leave?” Bucky’s chest tightened, throat constricted, skin prickled. He reassured Steve with a dishonest smile. He had to persevere; Steve had to know that he was pleased for him. _Why did you leave me?_

“I couldn’t do it anymore, Buck,” Steve broke the eye contact, head plunging into his frail hands, rubbing his skin that was engraved with aging peaks and mountains. “It was too much after that, after everything. I needed to be happy. Going back in time, I paused, and thought about everything. I thought about how so many have told me I could do anything I wanted. And I knew what I wanted: I wanted Peggy. Happiness. Family. Stability.”

“You had family here too, Steve. You know we would always do whatever you wanted, without hesitation. Were we not enough?” _I was never enough._ The stranger shot up, perhaps too quickly.

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know that. I’m saying I wanted to have the life I’ve always dreamed of. I wanted to put myself first, for once.”

“Put yourself first,” Bucky’s laughter was hollow, ever so hollow. Through the creaks of his false smile he had plastered on his face, evidence of the emotional damage steeped through. “At the expense of others,”

“No one was hurt,” He was frowning now, puzzled.

“What about Peggy?”

“What about her? We’ve had a happy life,”

“She had a husband before you,” Bucky stated. “She had a family. Grandkids. What happened to that?”

“I went back before she met him,”

“And does Peggy know about this?”

“She couldn’t ever, and you know that.”

See, Bucky knew Steve wasn’t in love with him because he was in love with her. Bucky did not hate her; he could never loathe someone his Eros adored so profoundly. Bucky knew Peggy saw what _he_ saw in Steve, and he was thrilled. Thrilled that Steve had someone who was his true love. Bucky had seen grown men bawl and wonder how they could over love. He had never understood because his dedication and adoration for Steve had never cut deep. He had shared his vulnerabilities with the man, interlocked his heart with his as much as his fingers… He understood then, when he saw how Steve gawked at her, gaped at her, as if she was the Seven Wonders of the World combined. Their souls and physical beings seemed to merge into one; Bucky saw the love they shared. Reciprocated. He was simply there just to watch. He thought he was meant to feel something; he thought he was meant to feel his heart shatter, almost like how the very image of what they used to be was. But he felt nothing, really, nothing at all. Because Steve was blissful, in love, selfless, and still gave him that toothy smile. Bucky felt every drop of venom pumping through his veins dissolute from that very beaming smile alone.

Now, though… Steve was living a lie. He was living for himself; he was not living for Peggy, for Bucky, for Sam, for the others. Perhaps Bucky should give him kudos for chasing his dreams, but all he could think of was how Peggy had had a family before the Adonis snaked his way through. All Bucky could think of was how Steve had had a family before this too.

“Did you change anything else?”

“No,” Steve shook his head. “Didn’t touch anything. Couldn’t.” Bucky felt an ugly, atrocious sentiment gargle in his stomach. He attempted to assure himself that Steve’s joy was above all – that Steve had finally put himself first, _for once._ But the selfishness of it, the discard for Peggy as a person, the discard for the knowledge Steve had that could have stopped catastrophes, the discard for the mourning that the Avengers were experiencing presently, the discard for Bucky’s eras of anguish, the discard for… He had left him; he had left him to be moulded into whatever fantasy HYDRA wished. He left him and their obliviously merry childhood memories. He had left him alone to agonise in this unfamiliar world, assisted by his trauma alone. He had left him for Peggy, a glorious being, and changed Peggy’s own fate, even though she had ‘lived a life.’ He had left him, his lifelong friend. He had left him behind. He left him. He had left.

The ring’s shine glowed more, blindingly, and it seemed to blur the lines of Bucky’s reasoning, flush out the reminder that Bucky was content for Steve.

“You left me,” Bucky gritted out, willing it to not sound as pathetic as he felt. This was the very man he would have stolen all the galaxies for and placed it into the palm of his hands for. “In the snow,”

“Bucky-”

“For decades. _Decades_.”

“Bucky-”

“You knew HYDRA infiltrated SHIELD; you knew about the Starks; you knew about every single fucking tragedy, Steve. And you just sat there, sat there on your fucking ass all happy with her, doing nothing? You are not the Steve I know. Who are you? You left me to fucking rot; you knew… You knew what they did to me. You knew what they did to the world. And you just let that happen?”

“ _Bucky._ ” Silence. “I couldn’t manipulate the past,”

“But you could manipulate Peggy’s life for your own personal gain?” Bucky countered. Steve opened and closed his mouth, shock and hurt clear on his face.

“I thought… I thought you’d be happy for me,”

“I am; that is why I let you go.” At Steve’s perplexed expression at the obvious contradiction, Bucky continued. “I am happy that you found peace; you have gone through a lot of shit, Steve. More than anything I want you to be happy, y’know? That means everything to me. I’m happy that you have what you always wanted. To escape this chaos. To have a family with her.” It tasted bitter on his tongue. “But abandoning everyone here when they need comfort, when they need _you_ – Steve Rogers – the most? Knowing you could prevent every tragedy in the past but decided to treat it as a spectacle instead? Forcing your own narrative into Peggy’s life when she had moved on from you?”

“She hadn’t,” It was a weak protest.

“She had moved on, Steve! She had a husband! Kids! Grandkids! What other evidence do you need that she had moved on?”

“I’m not the bad guy here; she’s happy. She’s happy,”

“I can’t comprehend how you have lived with that,” Bucky shook his head. “But most of all, I can’t comprehend how you have lived with yourself, knowing who is going to get slaughtered, knowing we’re here mourning without you, knowing who is going to get their _brain wiped…_ And didn’t even move a muscle,”

“I knew everything would turn out fine,” Steve retorted.

“Fine!?” Bucky’s ripped his hands from his pockets to gesticulate widely around. “Does this look like fine? Your friends are dead!” Bucky didn’t want to take this personally, didn’t want to make it about him, but couldn’t help it. This was the man who was supposed to be his lifelong best friend; he was supposed to be with him ‘till the end of the line.’ “You could have stopped them. From hurting us. From hurting me.”

“I fought against the world for you, Bucky; I searched for you.”

“And then you abandoned me when I needed you most!” Bucky declared. “I am confused, Steve! Fuck, I don’t know what the Hell is going on anymore. I don’t know how to adjust to this. I needed you; I needed you. You abandoned me, Steve, goddammit! I would have done _everything_ for you, Steve. I didn’t want any part of that stupid war; I could have left the war because of their little experimentation. I could have stopped the shit that happened to me. But you know what? I didn’t. Because I didn’t want to leave you. Because I didn’t want to abandon you. Because I always have followed you. Because you were what kept me going, what kept me alive, what kept me from reducing to – God, I… I sacrificed so much for you, Steve, because your happiness and being by your side meant the most to me. What the Hell was all that shit about being with me till the end of the line?”

“I…” Bucky, for a moment, had forgotten Steve was now feebler than he used to be. It appeared that his skin could rupture from the lightest touches; Steve had grown old without him. The thought made Bucky’s heart plummet even further into the depths of his stomach. “I think ‘the end of the line’ meant something different for you,”

And there it was. The cold blow to Bucky’s jaw, a satisfying _crack_ of bone on bone. Bucky’s face had fallen, completely fallen. He was more than flesh, greater than bones, so why did he feel vacant? More vacant than he ever had felt. Even before, with his mind a blank slate, there was something about Steve that felt familiar – at home. Something about Steve that felt safe, that he could always return to. Now, that had departed from him. Left. Bucky felt bare. Dull.

“I’m sorry,” Steve was trying to hold eye contact with the man who was just staring, _staring¸_ unnervingly blank.

“I think it was pretty obvious that it was till death for me,” Bucky said gently, trying to keep the fresh, new, dreadful emotions from oozing into his empty space.

“I don’t know… I don’t even know what it means now, Buck.” Steve admitted. “Just seemed like something that held us together,”

“Right,” Bucky swallowed. “What about before?” _You dropped your shield for me; what happened to that Steve?_

“I had a chance to go back, to get what I’ve always wanted. Before that, I didn’t, and you were the only piece of my past I had left. I needed to keep that – keep you. I needed some piece of my past. Now, I had the chance to go back, live in my past, live the way I was supposed to, with the love of my life?” Steve smiled at the thought, and the smile no longer conjured sweet sentiments in Bucky. “I couldn’t stay here… Not even for…”

“Not even for me,” Bucky finished, his jaw clenched.

“Bucky-”

“ _No._ ” Bucky interjected. “I am not hearing your fucking excuses. No. I can’t do this, Steve. I can’t do this; I can’t fucking do this,” He scowled directly into those stupid, stupid eyes. “I fucking… I fucking…” Panic was ascending up his throat, threatening to blurt out the truth. His body was now full, too full, too full, too full of that _stupid_ blinding love he had for the man… “I love you,”

“What?”

“I love you. I loved you before her, before anyone. I loved you through the war, through this war, through that war. I have always loved you. And every single day I gave a part of myself away to you… I love you. God, I fucking _love you,_ Steve. It’s out there now, huh? All those dames in the past…” Bucky chuckled. “No. It was always you. Guys like me weren’t welcome in that sordid society… But now? I can say it. Even though you’ve changed and I’ve changed. I’m in love with you, Steve. The pink I made dust across your cheeks, the gleam in your eyes; these little accomplishments… I ate them up like I was starving for it. Because I was, really. I still am. I’m still starving for you, Steve, and it _hurts_ now. It hurts. But dammit, I love you.”

The revelation was met with silence. Bucky swallowed thickly, shame burrowing into his skin, making a home in his body.

“Bucky,” The number of times Steve had uttered his name made Bucky somewhat lightheaded. “I… I never knew,”

“Yeah,”

“You know I love Peggy,”

“Yeah,”

“We aren’t like that; you’re my friend.”

“Yeah,”

“I’m sorry,” Steve glanced down at the ground, fumbling inelegantly with his hands. Bucky felt their whole friendship shift from this encounter alone. From the fact Steve had chosen to leave everyone for her, from the fact Steve had manipulated Peggy’s life for himself, from the fact Steve had ignored every disaster that had struck despite knowing it all… And now, Steve confessing that they were truly never on the same wavelength, never on the same line. Steve only felt so profoundly about Bucky when he had no other essence of his past left. Maybe there was one time, one singular time, where Steve had loved Bucky back, even for a little bit. He would have walked to Austria for Bucky.

Whatever that was, whatever had been – if anything _had_ been – that was lost. The man Bucky had fallen in love with had been lost. The man Bucky loved was in front of him, and the love was still so _raw,_ but it was not the same.

“I should go,” Bucky’s immediate response was to attack, to rage, to blame Steve for all of his agony and ache. His immediate response was to bring up the previous argument again, to truly get out all of his ire, to shriek and accuse, to yell, to weep.

But Bucky had learned not to weep.

“Thank you,” Steve smiled again. Bucky did not bother to force a smile back. “For coming over,”

“This,” Bucky’s voice was uneven. “It isn’t going to be the same,”

“I know that,” Steve nodded. “Your confession has changed a lot of things,” It stung.

“I’m not talking about that,” Bucky gritted out. “I’m talking about what you have done. To us. To Peggy. That is more important than you confirming what I already knew.”

“What you already knew? You were hopeful,”

“I live in a false little world, Steve.” Bucky turned away from the aged man; he turned away from the stranger. “I’ll see you around,”

“Bucky.” Bucky waited, waited for another sentence to flow from Steve’s mouth before he departed. But it never came. Bucky nodded and began to walk off. “Wait!”

“I don’t want to hear anything else,”

Bucky did not look back as he strode hurriedly, urgently, away from what his friend had become, away from the truth. He yearned to be back in that grimy apartment, cocooning himself around Steve’s delicate body to warm him up, hearing Steve’s amusement at something he had said, seeing Steve’s beam just at the mere sight of him approaching, knowing – thinking – that Steve would forever be his, that Steve would never find someone else and that Bucky would never need anyone else, that they would live the rest of their lives out in that apartment together. 

It was longing for a place, a _person,_ that would never return.

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey heyyyyyyyy! alright so i write TOOOOOOOOONSSS in my spare time and i just never post anything. it's probably something to do with the 32 unfinished works i have in my word docs... it's also because i get a bit nervous and just DELETE :S i thought i'd start my account over and then post this little delight! delight because i enjoyed writing it. :D hope you guys enjoy it too! we can hate steve's ending together <3 if i do ever post more the fics will be either sambucky or stevebucky... probably more sambucky because i LIVE for their chemistry (also can we talk about the sambucky show?! SO HYPED) i might be working on a sambucky fic right now actually wink wonk


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